The morning following Garrison’s
abolitionist rally at the African Meeting House, Freddie Douglass and Wes Parks
discuss plans for Wes’ Underground Railroad station. They must decide where to
hide the fugitives, where to construct the secret entrances and exits and the
location of Wes’ underground tunnel.

An underground tunnel means security
for the fugitive slaves as well as the family assisting them. Some white
abolitionists helping fugitive slaves have underground tunnels, but most do
not. By assisting fugitive slaves, white abolitionists weren’t courting any
danger ___ especially in Boston. The whites in New England shared the common
interest of getting rid of as many blacks as possible.

But colored abolitionists whose homes did
not have an escape tunnel risked having their fugitives recaptured and their
entire family, legally free or not, sold into slavery. Wes’ land, situated on
the north side of Beacon Hill, spilled down towards Roxbury. In the spring, Wes
farmed a variety of vegetables. His maple trees and fruit orchards formed a miniature
forest. Ruby preserved apples, pears and peaches from their orchards and distributed
the preserves to Boston’s black families year round.

“No! I’ll have no problem digging the
tunnel,” Wes observes, “just a problem keeping it a secret.”

“You are right about that,”Freddie
agrees. “I’d suggest that you dig two tunnels. That way you …”

“Hold on there,” Wes interrupts, “aren’t
you getting carried away? Digging one tunnel is going to be difficult enough. I
know you don ’t think I’m going to dig two of them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Freddie agrees.

How long do you think the tunnel should
be?” Wes asks.

“It needs to be long enough to get your
passengers away from the house and hidden until they can be on their way, that’s
all,” Freddie replies. “Twenty yards ought to do it, thirty at the most.” Freddie
and Wes continue surveying the property, discussing whether to begin the tunnel
from the apple cellar in the house or from the barn in the back.

After awhile Freddie begins to vent his
frustration with the white abolitionists. “They say they want to help us, but
they really don’t,” Freddie complains. “The northern whites just want to get
rid of us.” Wes nods his agreement.

“Colored folks can’t even ride on a
coach here in Boston,” Freddie continues. “The only reason these people up here
in the North are helping get slaves into Canada is because David Walker showed them
up as hypocrites.”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 8 3

“And they killed him for it,” Wes
observes.

“When did he write his book,” Douglass laughs, “almost thirty years ago? And they still
haven’t gotten over it.” Wes shakes his head.

“So now all these good Christian white
folks are kindly helping us darkies out of their
country.” Freddie laughs at the irony. “The American Colonization society
is sending blacks back to Africa and Garrison’s abolitionists are sending them
to Canada. All the while, they declare themselves to be ‘good’ Christians. I keep wondering what
the ‘bad’ Christians are like.”

“But, you’ve got to admit that a lot of
black people want to get out of America,” Wes observes. The two ex-slaves stare
out over the land, each lost in his own thoughts. Wes is estimating the
materials he needs to build the tunnel; Freddie broods about vengeance.

“They act like they still own us,”
Freddie says, continuing to voice his frustration.

“I’ll need half again as many timbers,
if I begin the tunnel at the house than if I start at the barn,” Wes muses. “Where
does the railroad end?”

“Wherever you want it to.”

“I mean where in Canada.”

“Oh!” Freddie says. “St. Catharines
near Niagara Falls in Ontario province.” Freddie resumes his rant. “There is no
life here in America for blacks. They are in servitude one way or another. They
are either slaves or debtors and it’s hard to tell which is worse.”

“Even in Canada blacks won’t really be
free.” Frank Yerby had walked down from the house and now joins the
conversation. “Besides which, it’s really cold in Canada.”

“Hi, Frank.” Wes greets his house
guest, pleasantly. “Freddie, this is Frank Yerby. He’s staying with us for
awhile.”

“Yes, I saw Frank last night at the
abolitionist meeting.” Yerby and Douglass shake hands.

“Freddie was complaining about how white
folks think they still own us.”

“Well, Freddie,” Yerby says, “get use
to it. The passage of the Fugitive Slave law gives you a real good indication
of their plans and very little is going to change.”

2 8 4 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

“And why is that?” Douglass asks.

“Land!” Yerby explains. “Millions of
acres of free land! Whites from all over Europe have their hopes and dreams wrapped
up in land ownership. Poor Europeans are flooding into America, willing to work
like slaves, just for the opportunity to own their own land. White Americans
have no intention of sharing their land with anyone, let alone black slaves. That’s why the abolitionists want to get rid
of blacks, into Canada, back to Africa, anywhere, just as long as they don’t
interfere with their plans to grab as much free land as possible.”

“You don’t think the abolitionists are kinder
than the planters?” Douglass asks.

“The planters are the lords of the lash and the abolitionists
are the lords of the loom,” Yerby
replies.

“You apparently have never been a
slave,” Douglass asserts, “You have no way of knowing the level of cruelty and
evil to which the slave masters descend.”

“What makes you think these northerners
are not capable of the same level of cruelty?” Yerby asks.

“Northern whites are different because
of their religion,” Douglass rationalizes. “They

are God-fearing people and for that
reason they don’t treat us like animals.”

“I think you’re confused,” Yerby replies.
“Either you don’t know or don’t understand the facts.” He stares at Douglass
with a look of pity. Before Freddie can reply, Ellen Ingraham emerges from the
house to join them.

“Mr. Douglass,” she says, “I am so
happy I found you.”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 8 5

“And why is that, Mrs. Ingraham?”
Freddie asks, his face lighting up at the sight of the beautiful octoroon from
Mississippi.

“I had hoped that you could put me in
contact with Dr. Randolph,” Ellen says.

“Oh, him!” Freddie Douglass is visibly disappointed. “I was hoping that
I, myself, could be of some service to you.”

“Oh, but you can,” Ellen replies.“You
see, I wish to contact Dr. Randolph on a professional matter. He told me last
night that he was planning to open an office here in Boston. I wanted to know
how soon we might expect the opening.”

“Dr. Randolph?” Freddie’s tone indicates
how little the black abolitionist respects the Rosicrucian Society’s grand
master. “Are you referring to the P.B. Randolph with whom I shared the podium
at the Vigilance Committee Meeting, last night?”

2 8 6 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

“The very same,” Ellen replies. She is barely
able to contain her excitement. “Do you know how to contact him in his New York
office?”

“I believe he is located in Stockbridge
in upstate New York, just south of Syracuse.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Douglass,” she says.
Then Ellen flies out of the yard, neglecting to say goodbye to anyone.

“Well, I never ___,” Ruby exclaims when
Wes tells her about Ellen’s strange behavior. “What’s gotten into her and who
is this Dr. Randolph she’s talking about?”

“You know this doctor?” Wes asks
Freddie.

“Doctor!” Freddie scoffs, “P.B. Randolph
is no doctor. The last time I heard of him, he was cutting hair and claiming to
be able to communicate with the dead.”

“What?” Ruby says.

“Yes!” Freddie declares. “He is
associated with the spiritualists. Some say he has been able to contact
departed family members. Others say he’s part of New York’s free love
movement.”

“Free love movement?” Ruby gasps.“What
is that?”

“A number of women are beginning to say
that marriage is just another form of slavery,” Yerby answers. “They are
concerned with women’s rights. Free love is a way of venting their frustration
over being dominated by men. The spiritualist and free love movements overlap
the anti-slavery movement which is why so many women are abolitionists .”

“I don’t know about your friend,”
Freddie says,“but I have heard that many white women have become thoroughly
infatuated with Paschal Beverly Randolph. They support him financially and
politically.”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 8 7

“Ellen ’s not white!” Ruby declares. Then
after a short pause, Ruby asks Freddie.“Why does he call himself, doctor?”

“Randolph sells concoctions and love
potions,” Freddie tells Ruby. “His customers, men as well as women, swear by
them.”

Wes thinks about Kpadunu, his childhood
friend in Dahomey. Kpadunu belonged to the roots and herbs guild and taught Wes
much about medicines and poisons. “Love is a magnetic force,” Wes remembered
Kpadunu teaching him. “Hate needs fear to project its will upon a subject. When individuals share love, will needs no other
agent.”

Ellen Ingraham loses no time contacting
P.B. Randolph. “I wish to consult with you, immediately,” she writes. It seems
like an eternity, waiting for his reply. So long, it seems that Ellen becomes distracted.
She overlooks the simplest of her household chores. Dwight notices the changes
in Ellen. She becomes irritable whenever he tries to talk to her. Dwight
worries. Something is wrong. The children also notice the change in their
mother. After two weeks Ellen receives Dr. Randolph’s reply.

2 8 8 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

“My
dear lady,” he writes, “although my circumstances will not permit me to return
to Boston at this time, you are most welcome to come to Stockbridge for a
consultation. Please inform me of the time of your arrival and I will make
suitable accommodations.” Even before she finishes reading his letter, Ellen
knows what she will do.

“Oh, Abby,” Ellen cries, “you’ve just
gotta go with me. I can’t go by myself. What would people say?”

“Fiddle-Dee-Dee!” Abby taunts, “they’d say the same thing about you whether I
went or not.” Ellen and Abby love each other like sisters and they fight like sisters.
Abby had decided to accompany Ellen when she first heard about the plan. Abby
wouldn’t miss out on this adventure for anything in the world. Besides I also might need some consultation
with this Dr. Randolph, Abby laughs to herself. Abby is having some fun by keeping
Ellen guessing. Sometimes sisters are mean to each other, especially if one is
white.

“But Abby, two sisters traveling
together will not cause any concern,” Ellen
continues to plead, unmindful of the mischievious twinkle in Abby’s eyes.
“Afterwards we can continue on to New York City, if you like; I’ll even pay for
the trip.”

This last remark angers Abby. She reacts
by flashing Ellen a venomous look. “Since when do I need some uppity nigger to
pay for me?”

“Oh, Abby, I didn ’t mean ___,” Ellen
says, wringing her hands together in despair. Her beautiful green eyes began to
swell and a great flood of tears tumble down her cheeks. “It’s just that I had
not realized how really lonely I have been, and Dr.Randolph seems to know
exactly what I feel and how to help me. Oh, Abby, if you don’t help me what am

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 8 9

I going to do?” Ellen’s tears drowns out
her words and she begins sobbing. The sight is enough to melt the hardest, most
insensitive heart, and Abigail’s heart is far from insenstive. It is just that
Abby is so bitterly disappointed with her own life ___ with Joe, but mostly with herself. The
circumstances of her birth had begun to weigh her down. At first, it was a lark
that Abby learned that her real father was not Barton Collins, but Wilks
Thomas. Her mother, Suzanna Collins, took revenge on Bart for embarrassing her
with all his ‘yard’ children, including Joe and Ellen. When Abby came to Boston
with Joe, she was the happiest woman alive. But, everything had changed. Now
she was a nobody and an outcast, banned
from ever returning home. Joe chased women, gambled and spent their modest
income on every imaginable vice.

Joe Collins has no objections to Abby
leaving; as a matter of fact, it is the best news he has heard in weeks. Dwight
Ingraham, on the other hand, absolutely refuses to allow Ellen to leave Boston without
him. For weeks, Ellen begs and pleads with Dwight, but to no avail. Dwight makes
private inquiries about Dr. Paschal Beverly Randolph and is not pleased by what
he learns. Dwight is no prude. The fact that he married a Negro and brought her
to Boston, estranging himself from family and friends, testifies to his
liberality. Dwight Ingraham is disturbed by Randolph’s reputation as a
spiritualist and a libertine. Neither is he convinced of the genuiness of his
wife’s medical emergency. Her strange malady did not even manifest itself until
after Ellen had met this Negro svengali.

“Dwight,” Ellen begs, “I know that Dr.
Randolph can help me.”

“Why can’t you see one of the doctors
here in Boston?” her husband asks.

“If
you loved me, you’d let me go.” Ellen is desperate.

“A couple of weeks ago, you were afraid
to leave the house,” Dwight observes. “You

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 9 1

saw slave catchers everywhere. Now you want
to go traipsing about the country, unescorted, because some Voodoo witch doctor
has cast a spell over you.”

“Maybe that’s why I’ve got to see him,”
Ellen replies, “because he knows magic and is the only one who can help me.” It
was the kind of logic that baffled smarter men than Dwight Ingraham. He could
see that refusing her request only caused their relationship to deteriorate. So
Dwight gave in. He paid the expenses and made the arrangements for both Ellen
and Abby to travel to Stockbridge.

“Guess what!” Ellen cries bursting into
Dwight’s study. She had just returned from telling Ruby about the trip.

“What?” Her husband smiles. Their
relationship had gotten a lot better since he had given into her strange
request.

“Freddie is going to take Wes and his friend,
Frank Yerby, along the entire Underground Railroad route into Canada.” Ellen
gives Dwight a big hug. “They’ll escort Abby and me to New York. And Wes will
meet us in Stockbridge on his return trip and escort us back to Boston.”

“Sounds great,” Dwight says, uncertain whether
to be happy or sad, but trying to sound supportive, at least.

It was a brisk New England day when a
strange party composed of a white woman, a colored woman passing for white, a
fugitive slave, a former fugitive slave, an African and an alien all arrive at
Boston’s railroad terminal to board the B&W passenger train. The B&W is
bound for Worcester with connections to Albany, Syracuse and across the
Canadian border to St. Catharines. The conductor, a middle-aged railroad man,
beams at Abby and Ellen, “Good day, ladies! Traveling to Worcester with us
today?”

“We’re going to New York,” Abby replies.

“Well, then, you’re planning to catch
the Western in Worcester,” the conductor informs them. “It takes you right into
Albany, New York.” Then taking out two tickets, he says, “Your fare will be
$1.67 for each of you ladies.”

“I hope you will help us to our next
train,” Abby says, exuding a southern charm that tickles the conductor. Abby is
always coquettish when she is with Ellen. How else can Abby keep the men from overlooking
her and staring at Ellen?

“You can depend on me, madam,” the
conductor promises. “I’ll see you safely on board. Now, do any of these colored
boys here belong to you? We don’t allow no coloreds to ride in the coach with
the white folks. But I can make a special fair discount if any of these boys belong
to you.”

Eyeing the Negro in his frock coat, white
shirt and silk cravat, the conductor has his own private joke. The conductor
recognizes Freddie from a previous trip. Douglass had made such a fuss by refusing to ride in the baggage car
with the other blacks that he was allowed him to ride in the coach with the
whites, just to keep the B&W on schedule.
Ellen put on a brave front, but passing for white had always been
difficult. Normally Dwight would take care of things. This was her first time
away from his protection and she was experiencing a sickening fear that started
in the pit of her stomach and then crawled upwards into her breast, making her
heart pump just a little faster and her breathing a little more difficult. She squeezed
Abby’s hand.

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 9 3

“This one here is with us,”Abby says, indicating
Shields Green, the fugitive slave that Freddie and Wes are escorting to Canada.
“Now Shields, you take care of our trunks, you heah. ” Abby loves emphasizing her
southern drawl.

“Yes’m,” Green replies, keeping his
head low and his eyes glued to the platform.

“Well,” the conductor says, “he can
ride for half fare, but he’s gotta go up front.” The conductor motions Shields
Green forward to the baggage car. After seating Abby and Ellen in the Overton
passenger carriage, the conductor returns to the platform and seats the
remaining passengers. Three of them are shady-looking characters whose evil
glares and sardonic grins identify them as slave catchers. Like bloodhounds,
the slave catchers had caught the scent of fear, not from any of the four black
men, but from Ellen.

“That ’n ’s an octoroon as sure as I’m
born,” whispers the one whose grimy fingers most matches the blackness of his
jagged teeth. “Some rich feller’s yard chile.”

“And I’ll be damned to glory,” another
one murmurs in reply, “if that nigger with them ain’t a runaway, hisself.” The
others nod in agreement.

“Yes siree,” the third one says,“we
done got us some runaways for sure. And even if they ain’t, that little white
abolitionist lady ain’t gonna do nothing about us cashin’ in.”

“After riding this train car for the
past month with nuthin’ to show for it ’cept a sore behind,” the leader says,
“this here trip is going to pay off, right fine. Yes indeed, that one there is
gonna fetch us a handsome price.”

“Oh, Abby, do you see them?” Ellen
whispers hoarsely. She tries to keep from peeking at the three slave catchers
who have been leering at her since the B&W departed Boston. The train has been
meandering over the New England countryside for two hours. Its taken that long
before Ellen dared express her fears to Abby. Why didn’t I listen to Dwight? Ellen had been asking herself over
and over. She tries to ignore the slave catchers. But to no avail. Every so
often, one would catch her peeking at them. Then the three southerners would
start cackling together. Ellen’s nervousness amuses them. “Yessiree, we done
caught a good ‘n,” the leader tells his boys. Ellen decides to put on a brave
face. At least I can try not to make the situation worse, Ellen resolves. Wes will take care of us; I just need to
be patient.

“Don
’t pay any attention to them.”Abby snaps at Ellen. “They’re just poor white
trash.” But both of them know better and both realize their situation is grave.

A
V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2
9 5

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

N

ow madam,” the grinning B&W conductor says, addressing
Abby, “later this afternoon, the Western arrives on that track over there, and
it leaves from there tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM sharp. So you tell your boy, here,
to get your bags down on the platform in plenty of time.”

During the nearly four hours that it took the B&W to
travel thirty-five miles from Boston to Worcester, Ellen and Abby bumped, rattled
and twisted so badly that both of them are heartily thankful for the stop over.
They can still feel the imprint of the B&W’s wooden seats, even standing
there on the platform. Ellen can also feel the eyes of the slave catchers,
watching and mocking her. Abby feels them, too. She believed the trip would be an
adventure. Now the trip has turned dangerous, at least for Ellen. No matter, Abby tells herself, even if Ellen is arrested, I’ll get her
released straight away and Shields Green, too. After all, a white woman’s
word stands for something, even up north.

The slave catchers lurk about the B&W platform watching,
waiting, trying to appear inconspicuous. Abby chats with the conductor.

“Is the railroad always that bumpy,” Abby complains.

“That little ride was nothing,” the conductor laughs,
“tomorrow you’re traveling over a

2 9 6 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

hundred miles and it’s gonna take more than eight hours.”

“Then we had better try to get some rest,” Ellen interjects.
Actually Ellen wants to get back on the B&W and return to Boston. But her
body aches so from the ride, that the thought of getting back on that railroad
car makes Ellen cringe. That is not the only reason she doesn’t return home. What
little pride Ellen has, will not allow her to abandon the trip, even if this
entire idea is stupid and she has been a silly fool for proposing it. How can I look so white and behave like such
a half-witted darkie? she asks herself.

So rather than following her instincts,Ellen decides to see her ill-fated journey through to the end,
just as if she were a character in a Frank Yerby novel. Turningto Abby, Ellen says, “Possibly this
gentleman can direct us to someplacewe
can rest for the evening. Lord, I’m tired.”

“You two ladies can go down the street there,” the conductor
says pointing across the tracks. “Mrs. Sumner has a nice comfortable boarding
house. And she has a right decent cook, so I’ve been told. All the young ladies
stay there on their way to New York. It’s not far from here. Anyone can direct
you. Your boy here can stay in her barn out back.” With that, Abby and Ellen take
the short walk up the street to Mrs. Sumner’s Boardinghouse with Shields Green
following with their bags.

Watching the two retreating figures, one of the slave
catchers says, “Let’s get ’em.”

“We got the law on our side. All we’ve got to do is get to
New York. Won’t have no trouble getting warrants for those two darkies, there. Besides,
if we grab them now, how we gonna get them back down South?”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 2 9 7

Jake, the one who made the suggestion, had a sheepish look
on his face. “I guess I don ’t know, Claude,” he admits.

“That’s right, boy,” Claude says. “Now you let me do the
thinkin’. Once we get to Albany and we get our warrants, we can take a steamer
pretty near all the way down to Charleston with nobody sayin’ nothing to us.”

“That’s a good idea,” the other slave catcher, Jake’s
brother, says.

“Of course there is one problem,” Claude muses.

“What’s that?” Jake asks.

“Can’t have no white woman nay sayin’ us before the judge,”
Claude observes.

“Then I guess we just going to have to get rid of that
little white abolitionist,” Jake’s brother suggests.

“Yep,” says Jake. “By the sound of her voice she a
southerner who’s turned agin her own folks for a nigra. I say whatever happens to
her, she deserves it.”

All three are in agreement. Claude fingers his Bowie knife
with a loving caress. He’s had it since
the Mexican War. It’s defended him and given him lots of pleasure. An evil
smile plays at the corner of his mouth, bristling his tobacco-stained whiskers.

Freddie spotted the three slave catchers even before they saw
Ellen. He told Wes and Frank Yerby about them. Spotting his enemies came second
nature to Frederick Douglass. He knew slave catchers by their rat-like odor;
their smell was a cross between a skunk and an outhouse. He knew them by their
dirty fingernails and rotten teeth. He knew them by the tobacco running down their
scraggily faces. Freddie, Wes and Frank followed Ellen and Abby at a distance,
making certain the women reach the boardinghouse safely.

“Do you think they’ll do anything at that boardinghouse?”
Wes asks Freddie.

“I don ’t think so, but let’s not take any chances,” Freddie
counsels .“We should watch both the boardinghouse and those slave catchers.”

“That’s no advantage,” Yerby says. “They have the law. If
they bring her before a judge and accuse her of being a fugitive, Ellen will
not be able to testify on her own behalf.”

“Abby can testify,” Freddie says. “We just need to protect
them.”

“It’s all well and good to talk about protecting them,” Wes
frowns, “but did you see their weapons? They’ve got six-shot revolvers, rifles, Bowie knives and whips. Not one of us
has a weapon of any kind. Being unarmed makes protecting damsels in distress somewhat
difficult.”

“Even if we had weapons,” Yerby pipes in, “We couldn’t beat
these killers.” Yerby has not gotten over his travels in Mississippi nor his
memories of Pedro and Bessie hanging from a tree, victims of an ill-planned and
ill-fated revolt. “I think in the long run,” Yerby continues, “we need a good
plan. A good plan would be better than trying to shoot it out with these ‘good
ole boys’.”

“You’re right, of course,” Wes agrees, “but I still think we
need weapons. In this country a man’s not a man unless he can protect himself
and his women. There is also the fear factor.”

“The fear factor?” Yerby repeats.

“These boys don’t fear nothing but the whip, the knife and
the gun,” Wes says. “They’re not afraid
of smart ass niggers. They are afraid of smart ass niggers with guns. They’re especially
afraid of smart ass niggers with guns who
will fight.”

“Of course, if it ever comes to using weapons,” Freddie
says, “we’d be lost. Them boys have probably killed more men before they were
old enough to shave then all of us put together.” Freddie Douglass was not
aware that Wesley Parks had presented the heads of many enemies to the king of
Dahomey and, if ever Wes got his hands on a weapon, he would make good use of it.

“All this is well and
good,” Yerby says, “but shouldn’t somebody get down to Shields and let him know
what’s going on?”

“I’ll watch over them for sure,” Shields promises Freddie
after being told about the slave catchers. The moonlit night passes with the four
black men taking turns watching the slave catchers as well as Mrs. Sumner’s
boardinghouse.

The next morning, Abby and Ellen arrive on time at the
Western Railroad platform. Shields Green carries their luggage. The two sisters
are rested. They are happy that they took the conductor’s advice and stayed at
Mrs. Sumner’s boardinghouse. The food was excellent and the beds comfortable.
By 8:15 AM, Abby and Ellen are chugging through the Massachusetts landscape towards
Albany. In the baggage car, Freddie begins laying out a plan. “When the train
gets to Albany, we need to get them away from the station as quickly as
possible,” he tells the others. “Albany’s Underground Railroad will assist us. Shields,
you’ll continue to act as Ellen and Abby’s servant. Follow me, closely, understand.”

“Yessuh.”

“Tell the ladies that they must keep up. They must not
tarry.”

“I’ll tell them, suh,” Shields assures Freddie.

3 0 0 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

“So this is what it’s like being a conductor on the
Underground Railroad,” Yerby says in a half joking manner.“I can’t imagine going
through this everyday.”

Freddie gives the Negro author a look of distain. “Maybe you
need to imagine what its like being black everyday,” Freddie says sourly. “From
now until we reach Canada, which is the only really safe place for any colored
person these days, I must insist that you do exactly as I say without making
any comments.”

“Absolutely,” Yerby replies.

“Yes suh,” Green agrees.

“Yes, I will follow your directions,” Wes says. “But our
chances of surviving any confrontation with those slave catchers, without
weapons and without legal protections are very limited.”

Freddie ignores Wes’ comment. “Rensselaer is a town that
lies directly across the Hudson River from Albany,” he continues. “That’s where
the free coloreds mostly live. The only coloreds allowed in Albany proper are
servants or slaves living with white families. The first place those slave
catchers gonna look for Ellen when they get their warrants is in Rensselaer.”

“Why will they think Ellen and Abby would go over there?” Wes
asks.

“Because that’s where Stephen Meyers runs his Underground Railroad
station,” Freddie replies. “Slave catchers always search Rensselaer for
fugitive slaves. So here’s the plan. At Albany, I’ll get off first. Shields,
you take Ms. Abby’s and Ms. Ellen’s bags and make certain that they follow me, no
matter what. You understand?”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 3 0 1

“Yes Suh,” Green replies.

Then Freddie turns to Wes and Frank. “I want you two fellas
to take the ferry across the river to Rensselaer. Past the docks, you should
find Pete’s Porterhouse. Anyone can tell you where it is. You should be safe
enough there until I come for you. Okay?”

Wes and Frank nod their agreement.

“When I’m certain the ladies are safe, I’ll meet you at Pete’s.
Then we’ll go to Stephen Meyers’ place. He’ll get us out of there with no
problem.”

“Do they serve food at Pete’s Porterhouse?” Wes asks. “Its
been a day since we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, yes,” Freddie chuckles. “You ’ll be able to eat all you
want over at Pete’s.”

Frederick Douglass has safely conducted many fugitive slaves
from Albany over the Underground Railroad. He is certain that he can protect
Ellen and Abby, without the use of
weapons.

When the Western Railroad reaches Albany, it’s early
evening. The setting sun casts long shadows over New York’s bustling capital. Passengers
disembark the train and scuttle off, hoping to reach their destination before
nightfall drapes the city in gloom. Shields Green unloads the ladies’ bags and
directs them to follow after Frederick Douglass’ rapidly moving figure. Looking
neither to the right nor the left, Freddie crosses the tracks and, merging with
the evening crowd, marches directly into Albany’s downtown area. The three
slave catchers gather below the railroad platform. They have a clear view of
the two women and their boy. “Don’t crowd them,” Claude instructs Jake. “You
and your brother just follow them so we know where we can get a hold of them when
we need to. I’m gonna go fetch the warrants and some help from the local police.
When you find out where they’re at, meet me down across the river where them
free niggers live. Right across the river there! You hear me, boy?”

“Yes, Claude,” Jake replies.

“All right, you two get on now ___ and don’t lose them, you
heah?”

Claude watches Jake and his brother tagging after Abby, Ellen
and Shields Green until they disappear with others crossing over the tracks and
up the street. Guess I’m jest gonna have
to disturb the old fugitive slave commissioner this evening, Claude tells
himself. But I’m sure he won’t mind a
bit, seeing as how I’m bringing him a tidy little sum just for signing a couple
of blank warrents.

A block past the train station, Freddie allows Shields and
the women to catch up to him. Then Freddie whispers, “Follow me close! I’m leading
you to a livery stable.” The women nod their agreement.

Any attentive passerby walking the Albany streets on this
particular evening might have noticed a strange parade mingled with Albany’s
evening crowd. First comes a distinguished Negro, smartly dressed in a cutaway
coat, white shirt and cravat, behaving as a person of importance as he strolls
up Albany’s main street. On a couple of occasions, the Negro gives a silent
greeting to white passersby, each of whom returns his greeting with a coded
countersign. Then the Negro pauses to shake hands with a white haired, well-dressed
gentleman. They exchange a few words and, after shooting the briefest of
glances at Abby and Ellen, the gentleman hurries away. Two white women follow
after the Negro fairly skipping several paces to keep up. The women’s manservant
carrying their bags, trudges behind. Two seedily dressed, heavily armed white
men creep behind the women at a discreet distance, keeping to the shadows. The
men stalk their prey with the instincts of hunters. Following the bizarre group,
if only with their eyes, from the windows of buildings overlooking the street are
abolitionists, concerned with keeping Albany free of fugitive slaves and free
of fugitive slave catchers.

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 3 0 3

Freddie ends his brisk walk by suddenly darting into a
livery stable. Abby, Ellen and Shields Green follow right behind him. As soon
as they enter, the stable doors slam shut and are bolted from the inside so
that moments later, when Jake and his brother attempt to enter the stable, they
can’t. Jake bangs on the door. No one answers. He bangs again and again. Still
no one answers. He continues his banging until he bloodies his fist.

“You’d better get back across the river and meet Claude,” Jake
instructs his brother. “Tell him where I’m at.” Then Jake takes up a spot and
waits. From his spot Jake can see the livery stable’s comings and goings ___ or
so he believes.

Inside, Freddie hugs the two women. “You’re safe, now,” he
assures them. “I was worried. But you both behaved wonderfully. And now, let’s
get you out of here.”

“Where are we?” Abby asks.

“This stable belongs to abolitionists who will assist you to
safety,” Freddie replies. “This gentleman,” indicating a black coachman, “will
take you now.”

The coachman leads the women through a tunnel that connects the
livery stable to another one directly across an open paddock area between the
two buildings. Both of the stables, as well as the exercise yard in between, belong
to the Mott sisters. The Mott sisters operate the largest Underground Railroad
station in Albany. Upon reaching the second stable, Abby and Ellen find a
handsomely appointed carriage, with a red emblem on either side, hitched to a
team of beautiful chestnut brown horses. The black coachman, Sam, assists the
women inside the carriage and stores their luggage. When Shields attempts to
accompany the women, neither the coachman nor Freddie allow it.

The coachman takes off toward the outskirts of the city. A
mile or so from downtown Albany, he turns into a long entrance. An arched
gateway permits the path through the high walls that surround the grounds
guarding the great, spacious English-styled manor home belonging to the Mott
sisters. As leading members of Albany’s abolitionist society, the Mott sisters,
assist hundreds of fugitive slaves from Albany up to Syracuse and into Canada.
That evening the Mott sisters feed Abby and Ellen while chatting about the
activities of abolitionist groups around Albany and throuhgout New England. Then
servants escort Abby and Ellen to their bedrooms where they sleep, safely and
securely.

The next morning, the Mott sisters hug Abby and Ellen as
though they were their own dear relatives and send them on their way. Freddie relays
a message to the Mott sisters through Sam. Freddie didn’t think it was wise for
Ellen or Abby to continue to Stockbridge. “Those slave catchers are certain to
get warrants,” he wrote. “Have Sam take them to Syracuse, I will meet them
there with Reverend May and we will return them to Boston.” Reverend Samuel May
was the head of the Syracuse’ Abolitionist Society. So as the sun’s morning
rays began streaking across an azure sky, Abby and Ellen find themselves in a comfortable,
well-appointed coach, speeding toward Syracuse along a secret road known to but
a few ___ or so it was thought. The further away from Albany they travel, the
safer the two women feel, happy that their brief adventure with the slave
catchers would soon be over.

After they see Ellen and Abby safely off to the Mott
sister’s mansion, Freddie and Shields retrace their steps back across the
railroad tracks and down to the Albany Basin, where they take a ferry across
the Hudson River to Rensselaer. Only the better-educated, better-dressed and
better-connected Negroes such as a Frederick Douglass or a P.B. Randolph are
allowed within Albany’s city limits. But even they must be out of Albany by
curfew. The Albany highlands, with its rolling hills and scenic vistas, are
restricted to whites only. Upon reaching the other side of te river, Freddie leads
the way to Pete’s Porterhouse where Wes Parks and Frank Yerby await them.

A century earlier, Rensselaer’s shanties and cabins served
as slave quarters. Now the same shanties and cabins house free Negroes and Irish
immigrants. Tensions between the two racial groups are an ongoing problem. Both
compete for the same low paying day jobs. For generations these jobs, belonged
to Negroes; now few if any of them are fortunate enough to get work. Everyday
free blacks pay to cross the Hudson in search of a day job. Even if they find
no work, they must pay to ferry back to Rensselaer. Irish immigrants, on the
other hand, find day jobs, with ease. Many Irish find permanent employment and
can afford to move across the river and live in Albany, permanently. No Negro
day laborer ever gets a permanent position in Albany unless as a house servant
with wages limited to room and board. But the final insult is when the city of
Albany hires Irish immigrants as policemen and all the Irish cops cooperate
with the slave catchers.

Jake and his brother find Claude at one of Rensselaer’s waterfront
bars. “I’ve got the warrants,” Claude announces. “What about the women?”

“Because they told me how the abolitionists get them slaves
outta Albany,” Claude replies, proudly.“There’s a road that leads outta town over
to Syracuse that all them abolitionists take. If we’re there about dawn, we
should catch them in a carriage driven by a nigger coachman. We can snatch our
two niggers and high tail it for Charleston with no problem.”

“The two niggers?” Jake asks.

“The high yaller gal and the nigger coachman,” Claude
smiles.

Jake will tell anybody. Claude had been the smartest paddy
roller in Mississippi. Now he’s just about the best damn slave catcher around.

“The police sergeant that gave me the information said we
shouldn’t have any problem getting them on a downstream steamer,” Claude
gloats. “There’s a river landing just north of Albany that we can use.”

“And we gonna take care of white abolitisionist?” Jake’s
brother asks. “Can’t have that white woman get them released as soon as they’re
arrested.”

“Never you mind ‘bout that,”Claude replies.“With these
warrants, the law’s on our side and I’m only taking two of them back down to
Charleston. That’ll give us plenty of time to deal with that southern
abolitionist lady.”

“What about those other niggers who’ve been watching us?” Jake
asks.

“They don’t got no idea what we up to. They probably think we
just a bunch of dumb crackers. But we gonna fool them boys, all right. Besides
which I ain’t shot a black coon in quite a spell.”

Jake slapped Claude on the back. “That’s why I always
say,‘Ole Claude is one of the smartest fellas I know ’.”

The next morning, in time to greet the new day, the three
wily slave catchers choose a remote spot not far from the Motts’ estate on the
‘secret’ road leading to Syracuse. There they wait until a coach with a red
insignia on the side driven by a dark-skinned Negro appears. The slave catchers
pull the coach over. The Negro coachman protests, “I’m sorry, but you
gentlemens has the wrong party. I’se Sam, Miss Motts driver, and I’se taking
these here ladies to Syracuse.”

A V I C T I M ’S G U I L T 3 0 7

“Well, Sam,” Claude says nonchalantly, “you just turn this
here rig around and head for the closest landing going south before I take this
whip to your black hide.” Then addressing Abby and Ellen, Claude says,“You
nigger wenches stay where you are and there won’t be no trouble.”

“I ain ’t no nigger! I’m white.” Abby screams at the slave
catchers.

“Effen you ain’t no nigger,” Jake asks, “how comes you’all
been given us such a merry chase all over the lord’s creation?”

“Because you were chasing us,” Abby says.

“Well, we chasing you because you’re runaway niggers, and we
got the papers to prove it,” Jake’s brother declares.“And now we gonna take you
back home and git our reward.”

“You’ll get no reward other than a beating, you redneck
peckerwoods, if you try to sell me in Charleston,” Abby snaps. “I’m white an’
white men don’t ‘low no low down yellow dog trash like ya’ll violating their
women.”

“How soon will that next southbound steamer get to the landing,
nigger?” Claude asks Sam, ignoring Abbey’s threats.

The slave catchers pull the coach off the road into a
secluded gully where they tie Sam to a tree. Each of them takes turns in the
coach with Abby and force Ellen to watch. Once, when Jake’s brother made a
menacing move towards Ellen, Claude says,“You know we can’t do anything to this
negress right now. We need to git her back to her people and git

3 0 8 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

our money.” So Jake’s brother was forced to turn to Abby
once again. Abby had long since passed out from the brutality of their repeated
sexual assaults. Sometime later, Claude asks the two brothers, “Are you boys ‘bout
through with her?” Nodding, they prepare to leave the coach to Claude. “You
know I can’t cut her in here,” Claude snaps. “Tie her up and take her down over
yonder by those rocks.” And there in the dirt and grime, Claude performs the
gruesome ritual murder upon the broken and abused body of Abigail Collins. Ellen
sits motionless, frozen by sheer horror into a catatonic state. Afterward
Claude puts Sam into the coach and orders,“Get us down to that river landing
before I lay your black nigger hide wide open with this whip.”

“Yessuh,” Sam replies as he turns the coach back onto the
road and down toward the river landing.

Freddie, believing that Abby and Ellen are safely on their
way to Syracuse, leads his party to the ferry landing a couple of miles above
Albany. He plans to catch the westbound steamer which will get them to Syracuse
in time to meet Abby and Ellen. So as fate decides, Freddie, Wes, Frank and
Shields Green arrive at the very landing where the slave catchers intend to
catch their southbound ferry.

As they approach the landing, Freddie recognizes the Mott
sisters’ coach. When Syracuse’s abolitionists fail to provide transportation
for fugitives arriving from Albany, Sam will bring them all the way to Douglass’
home in Rochester. So Freddie recognises the distinctive red insignia from a
distance.

“What’s that coach doing here?” Freddie wonders aloud. Possibly
the women had decided to take the steamer to Syracuse, he thinks. If they did, it
was a damned stupid decision. What was Sam thinking? He should know better.
While Freddie is getting worked up, he’s also getting more apprehensive. He
would never forgive himself if anything happened to those ladies. Wes spots
Ellen and Sam, shackled and manacled together. Sam is bent over and downcast.
Ellen, showing a crazed, wild look, stands rigidly erect, like a marble statue,
gracing the otherwise drab steamer platform.

Douglass goes deadly pale. He can’t move; he can’t think; his
eyes are riveted on Ellen. Freddie has never lost a passenger before.

“What’s the plan, now?” Wes asks again.

“Do you want that I should mosey on down to where they are?”
Shields Green suggests, breaking the tension between Douglass and Parks.

“I, for one,” Yerby says quietly,“think we need a plan before
we do anything.”

“The plan is to try to get as close as possible to them,”
Freddie says trying to decide what to do, “and outmuscle them. Maybe we can
throw them in the river before they realize what’s happening.”

“We need weapons,”Wes says matter of factly.

“No time for that now,” Douglass replies. Turning to Shields
Green, he says, “All right, you try to get down there without them noticing
you. Get as close as you can to the one over by Ellen.” And then to Wes,“You
take that one and I’ll take the other. Don’t bother

3 1 0 F R A N K Y E R B Y :

with their guns, just pitch them in the river so that we can
get the women and get out of there.”

Fortune rewards the bold and so it favored them. The Negroes
sneak down to the landing to surprise the slave catchers. Shields approaches
Jake who guards Ellen and Sam. Shields Green is over six feet tall, as are both
Freddie Douglass and Wes Parks. His servant’s garb and his shuffling gait make
Shields appear smaller and less powerful than he actually is.

Before Jake realizes what was happening, Shields catches the
skace catcher full on the chin with a powerful blow. Jake is unconscious before
he hits the wooden landing. Lifting him bodily into the air, Shields tosses
Jake into the Hudson.

“What the heck!” Claude shouts, as he and Jake’s brother both
reach for their revolvers. Wes and Freddie attack. Freddie’s pent fury up drives
him into Jake’s brother before he can fire a shot. Grabbing him by the throat, Freddie
nearly squeezes the life out of the skinny white man. Meanwhile, Wes has not
forgotten how to disarm an opponent. He easily overpowers Claude and takes away
the slave catcher’s revolver before pitching him into the Hudson River. When
Freddie throws Jake’s brother into the river, he falls awkwardly against a
river piling, causing his spine to twist which pinches a nerve. The pinched
nerve was not serious. With prompt attention and rest, the slave catcher could
have recovered the full use of his legs within a couple of days. But Jake’s
brother needs his legs immediately. The Hudson River’s strong, swift current pulls
the slave catcher underwater and the pinched nerve prevents him from using his
legs to kick up to the surface. Jake’s brother remains underwater and drowns. His
body floats nearly ten miles downstream before it is discovered.

They take Ellen back to the Mott sisters’ estate. For weeks
she hovers between paralysis and madness. Traumatized by shock, grief and guilt
over Abby’s rape and murder, it takes months before Ellen can speak coherently.
For awhile, she has but minimal control over her body and mind. Even after her
physical recovery reaches the point where she can walk unassisted, Ellen
continually relapses into states of depression and disorientation.

The doctors advises Dwight that Ellen’s condition could
worsen if he attempts to take her back to Boston. Dwight and the children visit
Ellen in Albany. At first she refuses to see them. After awhile, she permits
them short visits. Their encounters are awkward and difficult. Sometimes Ellen refuses
to even recognize them and she pretends not to know who they are. Realizing that
his visits only antagonize his wife, Dwight visits Ellen less frequently until he
stops coming, altogether. Even with the gentle and loving care of the Mott
sisters, Ellen’s recovery takes over a year. After her physical recovery, it takes
another six months before she can take responsibility for herself.

Abby’s body was found in the bushes a half-mile off the road
leading to Albany’s riverboat landing. They bring Abby back to Boston for
burial. Louise’s hatred for anything colored is surpassed only by her intense hatred
for Ellen Ingraham. “That

woman caused my mother’s death,” Louise would tell anyone
who would listen. “Instead of being home with me, my mother was out helping
this blubber-lipped, burr-headed nigger, and she got murdered for it.” More
than one listener concludes from Louise’s rants that fugitive slaves actually killed
Abigail Collins.

Claude and Jake escape to Charleston where, after recovering
from their brush with death, they resume their slave catching profession.
Shields Green takes his sorrow over Abby’s death onto the Underground Railroad
and travels all the way to it’s final destination in St. Catharines. After her recovery.
Ellen returns to Boston, but she quickly forsakes her family and follows the
Underground Railroad to St. Catharines in search of, she knows not what.